Remember Me
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "Sam just stood there, a faded picture of Jessica in his hand. Dean braced himself, only for Sam's confused gaze to meet his. 'Dean, who is this?" And just like that, Dean's world crashed and burned around him." One of John's old hunts spells big trouble for the boys when Sam is hit with a curse that causes him to slowly lose his memories. *hurt!Sam, protective!Dean, guilty!John*
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note: **__You have no idea how long I've wanted to share this with all of you! I have been working on this novel for a few months now and I finally feel confident enough with the first chapter to post it. This is definitely the biggest fanfic, I've ever written and probably one of the longest. The majority of this story will be set in season 1 with some occasional flashbacks. Anyways, please enjoy the prologue!_

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"_There is so little to remember of anyone—an anecdote, a conversation at a table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home . . ." _

―_Marilynne Robinson, "Housekeeping"_

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_**Prologue: **__June 14__th__, 1987_

Under a starless sky, he hopped over the wooden fence.

He landed with a slight thud as the dead grass crunched under his boots. It was midnight in Creekside, Mississippi, a small town just like any other. The few people that lived here had grown up here and remained while they raised their own families. It was a place where secrets abounded behind closed doors and everyone knew everyone else. It had Mom-and-Pop shops where tabs were still kept and teenagers worked under the watchful eye of the town elders. It was a place where you could walk down the street and know everyone who walked past you. It was a town where change was feared and strangers were looked upon with suspicion. It had been home to Linda Thomson and Jasmine Laurent until they were both found bloodied and tied up to the 100 year-old oak tree in the middle of this same field where he stood now.

They hadn't been the first victims either. There had been Marie Anderson a month before and Paige Matthews a month before that and who knew how many more victims before someone had begun to question the pattern of strange deaths. In the end, it hadn't been too hard to figure out that Creekside was home to a witch keen on sacrificing virgins in some misguided quest for power.

Crickets chirped softly as he neared the center of the field—the site where the bodies had been found. The moon struggled to be seen under the cover of the clouds. In the distance, a lone tree grew askew, bent over backwards as if it had tried in vain to reach the few silvers of light that graced the field. It was truly an eerie sight and had it been four years ago, he was sure that he wouldn't have been nearly as confident as he was now.

Then again, John Winchester hadn't been a hunter then.

Four years ago, he had been a simple mechanic who had been married to a beautiful wife. He had been a proud father to both a four year-old and a baby. He had smiled and his biggest worry was trying to figure out how he could cut down on his work to spend more time with his family and still have enough money left over to pay the bills. Four years ago, he had been happy.

Then, his wife was incinerated in a fire that had almost killed them. Mary was dead and John had found out quickly that her death was the work of a demon. That night, he had sworn that he wouldn't rest until he found the damn thing and killed it. John believed in the philosophy of an "eye for an eye" and frankly, he knew this was the only way that Mary would ever get any justice. It was for her that he had taken his family from the charred remains of their former life and had put them on the road. It was for her that he poured obsessively over any information he could gather on that demon. It was for her that he was going to raise their children as warriors because if they died—

John refused to lose anyone else.

And then suddenly, all was silent in the field.

He froze, eyes scanning the area for any signs of supernatural activity. He pulled out his gun, feeling slightly reassured by the familiar weight in his hands. Bobby had warned him not to go in alone—that he didn't know what he was truly dealing with—but while John respected the older hunter's opinion, he didn't work well with others. Mary had always said that was a fault of his, but now it was an asset. In his new line of work, you couldn't afford to trust anyone. He approached the tree with the stealth of a true hunter and as he carefully circled around it, he didn't see any signs of foul play. Confused, he stepped away and surveyed the larger area. He had been so sure that there would be a sacrifice tonight—

"Shh, it's okay." A feminine voice whispered and instantly John had his gun trained in the direction that it had come from. "It'll be over soon. I'm so sorry." He kept heading in the direction of the voice, boots crunching with each step he took. A few moments later, he stumbled upon a teenage girl holding the body of a slightly older woman. The girl was hard to make out in the moonlight, but John recognized her fiery red hair. It cascaded down her back, nearly kissing the grass. She was the librarian's daughter—Maggie? The woman who was bleeding out in her arms—stomach flayed open and thick blood sluggishly pouring out of the wound—was Celine Dawson, one of the teachers at the school. She was dying, if she wasn't already dead, and John cursed silently. He had just spoken to her this morning. She had been ecstatic, prattling on and on about her upcoming wedding. John had only half-listened, but now a wave of grief coursed through him. He hadn't been able to save her, but he could stop this. He could prevent this from happening ever again.

"Witch." He growled and Maggie looked up, clearly startled.

"What?" She echoed. "No, I'm not—" She placed the body on the ground and stood up, white t-shirt dyed crimson. She threw her hands up in a placating fashion and began to back away slowly. "Please, you have to believe me. I'm not the witch. I never wanted any of this to happen—!" Her vibrant green eyes filled with tears, but John kept advancing, gun directed at her heart, finger ready on the trigger should he need to pull it. Regardless of her excuses, it was clear to him that Maggie was the witch. What normal person would be out here cradling a dead body? He had to put an end to this. He had to give peace to the souls of all the women who had died because of this girl. "Please, I'm not the witch!" She was crying now, sobbing brokenly, but there was no pity in his heart. While she had a human form and had emotions, this girl had crossed the line. She had killed innocent lives.

She was one of them.

She had to die.

Without another thought, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the empty field.

"Oh." Maggie glanced down at the wound and then met John's gaze, her mouth having fallen open in shock. She appeared to be unable to process what had happened to her. She shakily pressed one of her hands to the wound and then recoiled it quickly as it became streaked with blood. "Why?" She swayed as her eyes rolled back up into her head. She fell to the ground with the gracelessness of the dead, her body finally landing in a heap before him.

The first few hunts, the sight and the knowledge that he had ended another life had shaken John. He used to feel guilty and used to despair over what his life had been reduced too. Now, whenever those feelings struck him, he pictured Mary on the ceiling, blood dripping from her stomach as she screamed out for help. He buried the guilt under sheer fury. It wasn't healthy—it wasn't a proper way of dealing with his grief, as his former doctor had used to warn him about—but it was how he got by.

One day at a time, that was how he lived. One day, one case, one creature closer to getting the damn demon that had taken his wife away from him. Maggie—the witch was just another step in this plan. One day, John would get the lead that would lead him to the demon. Until then, he had to bide his time while simultaneously protecting others from the things that went bump in the night. This was his job in life.

Sirens wailed in the distance and John took one last glance at the former librarian's daughter. Blood pooled beneath her and her skin was now almost the color of the pale moonlight that was now illuminating the field. The police would, no doubt, try their best to make sense of this puzzling scene. Perhaps they'd label Maggie the murderer or perhaps, they would rule it as a weird suicide thing. Either way, Creekside was safe. Another supernatural creature would take Maggie's place no doubt, but for now—this one moment—John could rest easy that there would be no more deaths tonight.

It was over and it was time to return to what was now left of his perfect family.

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_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter, the boys arrive at Creekside 18 years after this hunt. What awaits them there? Please review if you have a second! _


	2. 18 Years Later

_**Author's Note: **__Thanks for all the kind reviews/favorites/alerts! I really appreciated it. So, here we go, chapter one! I hope you all enjoy it!_

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_**Chapter 1:** June 14__th__, 2005_

The sleek Impala rumbled down the poorly paved road, passing by the dilapidated "Welcome to Creekside!" sign that stood on the outskirts of the small town. Dean Winchester sat in the front seat, eyes locked on the road while his little brother glanced out the window, careful gaze taking in every detail. The two brothers passed by buildings with paint chipping off and strangers glanced at them with blatant distrust in their expressions. One woman took one look at the car and practically dragged her daughter into the nearest storefront. Sam grimaced and sighed softly.

"What?" His older brother glanced at him, green eyes checking for any sign that something could be amiss.

"It's one of those towns," Sam informed him, settling against his seat fully. "This isn't going to be easy." Dean smirked at him and playfully punched his shoulder.

"Dude, when is it ever?" They pulled into the parking lot of the Sunnyside Inn, which appeared to be anything but sunny. It was small and reflected the town's run down status. A few windows had been broken, glass panes cracked beyond repair. Some of the doors black paint had chipped away to reveal some marks of graffiti that lay hidden within them. The whole inn screamed "close me now" but the two hunters casually got out of the car and surveyed their new "home" for as long as this hunt took. A petite woman with ebony hair stood on the porch, a broom in her pale hands. She paused her sweeping to glance up and immediately, her brows furrowed in confusion. Blue eyes met Sam's and the youngest Winchester was pleased to see that the immediate distrust hadn't surfaced with this young woman. Dean smirked and Sam ducked his head as he grinned softly. No doubt Dean would attempt to charm her and while Sam would normally be annoyed by his antics, he was beginning to realize that this town might be more hostile than they were used to. His brother's jokes might be his only source of entertainment for the duration of the hunt.

"Can I help y'all?" She had a trace of a Texan accent and Sam could feel Dean warm to her. Once, after a particularly nasty nightmare of Jess, his older brother had talked to him for hours about a solo hunt he had done in Texas. _It's a magic state, Sammy_, Dean had told him. _The beer is always cold and the women are always friendly. And there are libraries there too! In Houston, they have the biggest damn library I've ever seen. You would like it there. We should go._ Sam couldn't count how many nights Dean had spent talking to him after the nightmares.

"Yeah, sweetheart," Dean began, full grin up and eyes sparkling as he stepped towards her. "One room, two beds." The woman put her free hand on her hip; head tilting to the side in slight puzzlement.

"You wanna stay here?" She gestured vaguely to the building behind her. "Cause Brighton is only about 30 miles down the road and let me tell you, they've got better inns than this hunk of junk."

"You tell all of your customers this?" Sam questioned, slightly off put by her attitude. The woman smirked slightly, though there was nothing but sadness shining in her eyes. She bent down, placing the broom on the wooden porch.

"I'm just tryin' to do you a favor," She explained, stepping a bit closer to them. "This town don't take kindly to strangers."

"That so?" Dean replied, fishing for information. The woman unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself and Sam could see the clear fear on her face.

"Just . . . get out," She said softly. "You don't wanna be caught up in this stuff."

"What stuff?" Sam pressed, intrigued. He had a brief idea of what they were hunting, but from what he gathered, there had only been three deaths in the past three months—yes, it was devastating for people, but it was relatively low compared to what Sam was used to dealing with. The worst vengeful spirit he had ever put down had killed 10 people within a week. This had been in San Francisco though and while there were whispers of a serial killer at work, it hadn't caused too much of a panic. This woman though . . . she was petrified of something and the youngest Winchester doubted that it was the spirit.

"Go, please," She whispered fervently to them and Sam followed her gaze to where she was currently being gossiped about by two elderly ladies. "I don't need anymore trouble." She looked close to being on the verge of tears and while Sam wanted to relent, they had a job to do.

"Look, Miss—" He began.

"Lucy," She replied. "Lucy Anderson."

"What if we helped clean this place up if you let us stay?" Dean shot him a glance, emotions caught between "_What the hell are you doing?" _and _"We have only one job to do." _While Sam understood that—ever since Jessica had died, he had wanted to complete the jobs, to find Dad, to get rid of this all consuming grief that tried to suck him on a daily basis—he also knew that this woman needed their help. Maybe her problem wasn't supernatural per se, but she was in distress and while he and Dean were here, they had to help her. It was as simple as that.

"Are you . . . ?" Her voice trailed off. "Are y'all kiddin' me?"

"No," Sam told her with cautious grin. "My brother and I are on a road trip and we really need a place to stay." Lucy relaxed a bit, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

"Well, I suppose that's okay." Her eyes darted towards the two old women who shook their heads and whispered fervently to one another. Lucy huffed a breath and then picked up her broom once more. Heading to the door, she cast one more glance at the women before finally opening the front door. It creaked and sent an involuntary shudder down her back. "Come on in."

With that, she led the two boys into the main lobby.

* * *

The inn, on the inside, wasn't nearly as dilapidated as the front let on. Sure, there was a bit of dust and most of the furniture in the lobby had been covered with white sheets, but there was a huge window that let in a steady stream of sunlight. Paintings hung on the floral wallpapered walls, their gold frames sparkling as the light reflected off of them. Sam paused and glanced at one. A woman stood in the middle of a field with a huge oak tree towering above her. In the sky, a full moon shone even as clouds threatened to consume it. Her face was peaceful, her eyes shut and her arms stretched out, almost as if she knew her fate and was accepting it. For some reason, it saddened the youngest Winchester, though for the life of him, he couldn't understand why.

"You like it?" Lucy startled him out of his trance as she came to stand beside him. "My mom painted it."

"She's amazing." Sam breathed and Lucy nodded her head, a proud smile gracing her face.

"Yeah, she was incredible," She sauntered over to the front desk—a wooden piece of furniture littered with copies of magazines. Shoving the magazines aside, she pulled out her laptop and with a grin, opened the screen. Typing in a few things, she met Sam's gaze once more. "The things she could paint . . ." Her voice trailed off wistfully. "It made you feel like you were there, you know?" Sam nodded his head in agreement. Lucy pounded a few more keys before grinning, her face alighting with happiness. "When we moved here from Texas, she always said that Creekside has the best light to paint in."

"How long have you lived here?" Sam questioned.

"Oh, about 20 years," She answered. "We moved from Texas when I was five." She spun around and grabbed a key. "Okay. Here you go." She handed the metal key with a green tag labeled "1" to Dean. "It's upstairs, first room on the left."

"Thanks." Dean told her, and the two of them picked up their duffels once more and headed up the stairs. The two brothers dodged a stair that had split down the middle and had been hastily covered with some carpet. Making their way to their room, Sam caught a glimpse of another painting. He only could make out a young girl's red hair before being dragged into his room by his brother. Dean dropped his duffel on his bed and glared at Sam.

"What?"

"Dude, what the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, slightly defensive. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sam frowned and carelessly tossed his duffel on his own bed.

"We don't have time to help fix this place, hot chick or not—"

"Why not?" Sam pressed.

"Sam—" His brother began to protest.

"Dean, you saw her. She's terrified of something here and the way the rest of the town was judging her even though she lives here, makes me doubt that anyone is going to be upfront with us." He watched his older brother process this, logic slowly working its way through his mind and winning him over.

"Just focus on the case, okay?" The older Winchester muttered as he opened his duffel and yanked out the container of salt. Sam nodded his assent and pulled out his laptop. Settling onto the semi-comfortable bed, he opened all the files of data he had gathered for this case. "What we've got?" Salt shined on the widow sill, the crystals reflecting back the warm sunshine.

"Creekside, Mississippi," Sam started, eyes trained on the screen. "Used to be home to a witch that Dad took care of. Her name was Maggie McGuire and according to Dad's journal, he caught her just after she completed her monthly sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Dean echoed, throwing up some protection sigils now.

"Virgins sacrifices, to be exact," The youngest Winchester reported. "Dad wasn't sure what the sacrifices were for, but he killed her." Sam scrolled down. "It's been quiet here ever since her death, except for the past three months where one girl has been killed in the exact same way as Maggie's previous victims."

"So, what? She's come back as a vengeful spirit to finish whatever spell she was casting?" Pleased with his work, Dean stepped back and smirked slightly.

"Considering Dad didn't salt and burn her 18 years ago, yeah. She's our best suspect." Sam's face wrinkled up in confusion. "Wait, why didn't he salt and burn her?"

"You said this was 18 years ago?" Sam nodded. Dean's eyes glazed over with something incomprehensible and his lips tightened into a thin line. He almost appeared upset and slightly angry. It was odd, seeing his brother so put off by the mention of their missing father. Dean idolized John—it was Sam who usually caused problems with the head of the Winchester family. "Dad had only been in the life for a bit. He might've thought that you only had to salt and burn vengeful spirits' corpses."

"Maybe." The youngest Winchester said softly.

"Got anything else?" The unhappy look had vanished without a trace. Dean was back to his normal self, cocky grin in place.

"Her mom still lives in the town," Sam replied. "She works at the library. Other than that, she was an only child and her dad died when she was a toddler." Dean was about to open his mouth to speak when there was a sharp knock at their door. Puzzled slightly, Dean headed over to it and pulled the creaky door open.

"Sorry to bother you," Lucy started, voice tinged with fear. Her eyes were wild and kept darting all over the room. Something had spooked her—something worse than she was letting on. "But can I just, um, hide out in here for a bit?" She didn't wait for a reply before she shut the door behind her. The two brothers shot each other a confused glance as Lucy plopped down on Sam's bed.

"Is everything okay?" He questioned softly, not liking how pale she was becoming.

"It will be." She whispered. Dimly, Sam heard footsteps downstairs. Angry voices began to shout, beckoning Lucy to join them so that they could have a "civilized talk." Dean scoffed, but upon hearing the townspeople's voices, Lucy seemed to withdraw further into herself. The young woman had shut her eyes and had wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, as if she was afraid of breaking apart. There was more shouting, followed by the breaking of glass and then finally, a door slammed and all was quiet.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean spun around to face Lucy who had finally opened her eyes.

"Nothing." With that, she rose from the bed, opened the door and headed down the stairs. A few moments passed in silence as both brothers processed what had happened. The townspeople in Creekside clearly didn't like outsiders and it didn't seem like they cared for Lucy much either. The question was why. What were they hiding? Why hadn't they called out the sheriff to look into the murders yet? Did they know who was behind it?

"We should probably go interview the mom." Dean began.

"Probably." Sam agreed.

Neither moved.

"No, Sam—"

"Dean, we can't just leave her when an angry mob just came to—"

"I know," Dean interjected softly. "I know that."

"So, we bring her along?"

"Or you stay here."

"Dude," He glared at his older brother. "You're going to willingly walk into a library by yourself? Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"Fine," The older Winchester sighed. "We'll ask Lucy to come with us." Sam grinned, feeling proud of himself for swaying his brother.

"Sounds like a plan."

With that, they were out the door.

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_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter, Sam and Dean attempt to help Lucy and along the way they encounter more of the townspeople, who are clearly hiding things. Can the boys get to the bottom of this?_


	3. Those Left Behind

_**Author's Note: **__And here we are, chapter two! I hope you all enjoy! I had a blast writing it!_

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_**Chapter 2: **Those Left Behind_

They found Lucy cleaning up the glass of yet another broken window. She flinched as she picked up one of the larger pieces and Sam could see a crimson drop stain the glass as she dropped it like it had burned her.

"Careful." Sam cautioned gently as he took a step towards her, Dean at his heels. Lucy immediately backed up and shook her head, eyes dropping to the floor.

"I'm fine." She replied, pulling her hand towards herself and practically retreating over to the desk. Dean scoffed and Sam shot him a harsh look. The two brothers watched as Lucy shakily pulled open a drawer and fished out a Band-Aid.

"What happened?" The older Winchester questioned.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sam echoed. Lucy still wouldn't meet his gaze and Sam sighed softly.

"You two heading out?" She was avoiding the subject. Something awful had happened and Lucy knew who was responsible. Yet, she refused to discuss it, something which puzzled Sam to no end. Yeah, he could understand that to Lucy, they were strangers, but with the townspeople acting the way they were? It was obvious that she had no friends here—only enemies.

"Library, actually," Dean interjected, oozing charm as he crossed the gap between them and the desk. A confident smile on his lips, he leaned towards her and the youngest Winchester frowned as he saw Lucy visibly stiffen. "We were hoping you could help us find our way there?"

"It's two blocks down and then make a left," She told them quickly, backing up until she bumped the wall. "It's a nice building. You'll know it when you see it."

"You can't walk us there—?" Dean's smile was still in place, but Sam could see the growing concern and puzzlement coloring his older brother's expression. It didn't take a genius to see how odd Lucy was acting. The question was why? Why was she treating them as if they were going to murder her any second when she had been very cordial to them earlier?

"No." Lucy replied.

"Lucy, we aren't going to hurt you—" Sam felt compelled to say. She almost appeared to be a deer in the headlights and the youngest Winchester wanted nothing but to help ease her burden. This was what they did, wasn't it? Saving people? He had failed to save Jessica so if there was a chance he could help Lucy, he was going to.

"Please," She breathed, voice breaking. Her eyes met his gaze and tears sparkled within them. "I just . . . I just need some time, okay? I'm sorry, but just let me . . ." A lone tear rolled down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away. A sob escaped her lips and before Sam could say anything, Lucy had sprinted up the rickety stairs. A door slammed above them and Dean turned to face his brother.

"What the hell was that about?" His older sibling asked and Sam shrugged.

"I don't know, dude," He allowed his gaze to drift towards the stairs. "Nothing good though."

"Then, let's go."

"We can't leave—"

"What do you want to do, Sam? Drag her with us?" Sam shook his head and sighed, resigned. Dean nodded and headed towards the other side of the room.

With that, they pushed opened the door and headed towards the library.

* * *

Creekside's library was the only building that appeared to be well kept and maintained. It was a pristine white structure with a lawn of emerald grass and a huge door with a brass doorknob. Enormous windows allowed light to stream into the main reading room. Rows upon rows of books were neatly placed upon organized shelves. The carpet was plush and as the two brothers stepped into the library, Sam almost felt bad for stepping on it with shoes.

"This is nice." Dean commented offhand and Sam nodded. He had been to plenty of libraries in his life, but this one was one of the most beautiful.

"Ah, good afternoon!" A voice chirped. A matronly woman of about 60 stepped out and smiled congenially at them—their first welcoming smile they had received since they had arrived in this town. She was a bit on the plump side and was dressed in a white blouse coupled with a multicolored, billowy skirt. It was an odd outfit, but it somehow complimented her eyes, which sparkled a vivid shade of green in the sunlight. "Well, isn't this my lucky day? How often do I get two handsome gentlemen callers in my library?" She chuckled to herself and Sam ducked his head, slightly embarrassed at the praise. Dean grinned though and the youngest Winchester knew that he would no doubt shamelessly charm the older woman.

"The pleasure is all ours ma'am." He replied and the woman giggled again.

"And manners too!" She exclaimed. "Well, this is such a wonderful surprise! No one ever comes in here and now suddenly, here I am with two young men!" She motioned for them to sit down at one of the oak tables that littered the room. "Shall I make some tea?"

"No, thank you, ma'am." Sam replied shyly. Her warm eyes met his and she nodded before plopping somewhat ungracefully into the plush chair across from them.

"You must forgive me," The woman began. "I'm afraid that I'm not used to having company." Her expression grew composed. "So, how may I help you?"

"You're Mrs. McGuire?"

"That's me!" She exclaimed. "But please, called me Hannah."

"We're actually doing a report on your daughter—" Murderous intent suddenly flashed in the Hannah's eyes.

"Get out." She hissed.

"But—" Dean began.

"Get out!" She roared, rising up from the chair. "Maggie was innocent, you hear me? She didn't kill those girls and she didn't kill herself—"

"Which is exactly what we are trying to prove," Sam interjected smoothly. Hannah froze and stared at them oddly. "We're reporters for the _Global Sun_ and we think there may be evidence to prove Maggie wasn't responsible, Mrs. McGuire."

"You . . ." Her head tilted to the side comically in confusion. "You think Maggie was innocent?"

"The evidence seems to point that way." Dean added.

"Oh." She sat once more, a small smile tugging on her lips. "Finally. I knew one day someone would come and believe my story." She reached across the table, placing a cold hand on top of Sam's. "My daughter was a good girl. She couldn't even kill spiders, let alone people."

"What happened exactly?" Sam asked and Mrs. McGuire frowned sadly. She let her gaze drift out to the window.

"Girls were dying, one every month," She began. "People were scared and the police were clueless. Then, this stranger rolled into town—"

"Stranger?" Sam interjected.

"He was a state trooper, I think," Mrs. McGuire recounted, almost wistfully. "And he started asking strange questions. Things about whether the murders were on the day of the full moon and stuff about whether any of the girls were into the dark arts." She chuckled dryly. "He was a bit off his rocker, you know?" Sam nodded politely but he shared a glance with his brother that spoke volumes. Hannah was clearly talking about their father and John's "green" tactics. It was funny to think of a time where their dad hadn't known anything and everything there was when it came to hunting. It was hard to remember that John hadn't chosen this life—it had chosen him.

"And this state trooper did what?" Dean pressed.

"Well, he stayed in town for about a week," Mrs. McGuire continued. "And then he left the night that Maggie died. The sheriff came out and he said that based on the evidence," Her eyes rolled and she huffed slightly. "Maggie had to have done it, he said. Maggie killed all of the girls and then shot herself. That's what they said." She rubbed her left eye furiously and a twinge of guilt flared up within Sam. It was for a good a cause, yes, but making this woman relieve what had to be the most traumatic experience of her life made him feel bad. Who knew what kind of grief they were making her feel again?

"And you believed—?"

"I think that trooper killed her," Mrs. McGuire stated quickly. "He had to have done it. My Maggie wasn't a killer." She sniffed loudly and exhaled shakily. Sensing that this was their cue to leave, Dean was the first to rise and shoot her a grin.

"Well, thank you so much for your time, Mrs.—"

"Hannah." She interjected with a half-hearted attempt at a playful wink.

"Just one more question," Sam quickly added. "Is Creekside always this welcoming to strangers?" Hannah chuckled softly.

"You noticed that, did you?" She rose from her seat. "Let's just say that people in Creekside stick to their own." Dean scoffed and Hannah smirked.

"Yeah, they certainly do that." Dean remarked.

"Why didn't you leave after Maggie died?" Sam questioned. Surely, the town had to hate her if they believed her daughter was responsible for killing a lot of girls?

"She's buried in the cemetery here. And if Maggie can't leave," Hannah began softly. "Why should I?" She smiled weakly before excusing herself to the backroom. Sam shot Dean a glance and the two headed outside.

"What do you think?" Sam started as they began heading down the street back to the inn.

"It all fits up," Dean replied. "Maggie died violently and if her mom was right and she was innocent? She's gotta be pissed as hell."

"It's just . . ."

"What?"

"I don't know," The youngest Winchester mumbled. "Doesn't this seem a bit easy to you?"

"Dude, when has that ever been a bad thing?" A woman across the street saw them and sprinted in the opposite direction. Sam couldn't even bring himself to care anymore. If the people here wanted to be extremely paranoid—something that he couldn't exactly fault them on, given their track record with killings—then he wasn't going to let them get to him.

"I'm not saying that it is," Sam replied. The inn was in the distance now and the youngest Winchester could see the front door wide open. They hadn't left it open when they had left, had they? He quickened his pace. "But, don't you think that maybe there's something else at play here?"

"Like what?" His older brother challenged. Raised voices could be heard now and the two brothers halted suddenly.

"Goddammit, Lucy!" A masculine voice bellowed. "You want us all to die, huh? Is that what you fucking want?" The two Winchesters cautiously made their way to the side of the door, one on each side in order to get a better view of the situation. Sam peeked in and frowned as he saw a group of about three men and woman facing Lucy, who stood behind her desk as if she wished to protect herself. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, as if that was the only thing holding her together. A man in a dirty white t-shirt and ripped jeans stood directly across from her, pacing.

"Of course not, Jeff—" She began.

"Then, you listen to me and you listen well," He slammed his hands on the desk making Lucy flinch. "Whether you go willing or whether I have to drag your ass there personally, you will fulfill your duty."

"And what duty is that?" Lucy hissed. "You let those girls be killed and for what? A witch? Those don't exist—" Sam's eyes widened incredulously and though he wanted to run in and help Lucy, they needed to know more. Was there a witch in town now? Had Maggie even been the witch to begin with?

A sickening thwack resounded through the room. Lucy held her cheek and murderously met the gaze of a middle-aged woman who had calmly slapped her as if it was nothing. She appeared to be one of those uptight ones, wearing her chestnut hair in a bun. Pearls graced her pale neck and she casually adjusted her black sweater, pulling it down over her skirt.

"Marion." Lucy greeted sarcastically

"That's enough of your hysterics," Marion stated calmly. "You heard Jeff. Willingly or not, you will come. You, of all people should know the consequences for disobedience. Need I bring up your mother?" Lucy paled and Marion smirked.

"You bitch." Marion appeared ready to slap her once more when Jeff caught her hand.

"That's enough, sweetheart," He said gruffly. "She's learned her lesson."

"Whatever you say, dear."

"Let's go now," He ordered to the rest of the group. "Let's let Lucy reflect on what 'civic duty' means." The crowd then began to head through the front door. Sam and Dean dissolved out of sight, as their father had taught them. As soon as the group left, they headed inside.

"Lucy?" She had her head in her hands and was sobbing openly. Sam headed over to her and was about to put his hand to her shoulder when she flinched.

"Please," She sobbed. "Just leave me alone."

"Sam," Dean called and Sam fell back with his brother. Heading up the stairs, he took one last look at the sobbing young woman on the floor. What the hell was going on here? The townspeople knew about the witch? Were they sacrificing girls to protect themselves from the wrath of this witch? And if that were true, was Lucy their next target?

"Sam." Dean's gaze was determined—resolved. "Let's get to work."

The youngest Winchester nodded. The sooner they dealt with Maggie's spirit, the sooner they could figure out how to deal with the possibility of a witch being in town.

The sooner they could unravel the mystery that was Creekside, Mississippi.

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_**Author's Note: **__I really liked this chapter and I hope you did too. Please review if you have a second! Thanks! _


	4. Fall to Pieces

_**Author's Note: **__Hi there! I hope you all are doing well. Please enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

_**Chapter 3: **__Fall to Pieces_

The cemetery was small and though they had waited until nightfall, it was easy to find. The thought of leaving this town filled Sam with relief, though he wished there was something he could do for Lucy. She was terrified of this town and the townspeople seemed to hate her as well. The question was, why? Why were all these people turning on her when she had lived here for practically her whole life? It made no sense and the more the youngest Winchester thought about it, the more he felt like they were overlooking something. Yeah, all the signs pointed towards Maggie's spirit being involved, but what if she hadn't been the witch in the first place?

What if she had been framed?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dean broke into his mind and Sam's head jerked over to his brother as the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the rusty iron gates of the cemetery. It was the definition of the stereotypical cemetery, with its non-existent lights and crumbling angel statues. It was the place where teenagers would come on a dare and the thought brought a frown to Sam's face. Maybe that was how all the victims had come here, the result of some stupid prank by their friends. "Sam?" His brother was gazing at him intently now and Sam waved off his concern.

"Sorry, just caught up in thought." Dean smirked.

"Yeah, I could see that," He turned the keys in the ignition before pulling them out. They flashed for the briefest of moments in the moonlight before his older brother pocketed them. "What about?"

"Are we sure Maggie is responsible?" Dean's face filled with confusion and he tilted his head to the side slightly.

"It's her M.O. Sam." His older brother explained patiently, his eyes drifting over the area, checking for any threats.

"What if she wasn't the witch though?" Now, his elder brother gazed at him like he had grown a second head.

"Sam, seriously?"

"I mean, what if—"

"It doesn't matter," Dean retorted. "She still died violently, Sam. Either way, she needs to be salted and burned." Knowing it was pointless to fight against his brother's logic, Sam resigned himself to this and nodded. Together, they got out of the car and made their way to the grave. Maggie's tombstone had been vandalized, graffiti made her name barely recognizable. Still, there were daisies on her grave and he assumed they were from her dedicated mother. It was a shame really that they had to desecrate her grave further given all the trauma she had been through, but if Dean was right, if she was hurting people, she had to be put down.

It would be better for her in the long run.

Silently, they began to work, shovels hitting the muddy ground. The youngest Winchester focused his mind on the task at hand. In the distance, he saw a huge oak tree, its branches seemingly stretching up endlessly until you could no longer tell where the tree ended and where the nighttime sky began. It was a peaceful sight and it brought a tired grin to Sam's face.

That is, until he saw her.

The light was bad—the cemetery didn't have lights of its own, so he and Dean were working with flashlights—but in the distance, he swore he could make out the familiar ebony hair. He dropped his shovel and began to move, distantly hearing his brother call out behind him, but it was to no avail. He sprinted—sprinted harder than he had thought he was capable of—and soon hopped over the wooden fence that gated in the field.

"Lucy!"

She was tied to the tree, like all the other victims before her and for a few seconds, he had thought he was too late. Blood covered the front of her shirt and as he skidded to a halt before her, he almost fell because of how slippery it made the ground. Her face was ashen though in the moonlight, he could see the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Pressing two fingers to her neck, he held his breath as he waited for a pulse.

"Sam!" Dean was catching up to him now and from the tone of his voice, he sounded pissed that he had been left behind for no explanation. At the moment though, saving Lucy's life became Sam's main priority and he pulled out his pocketknife and cut the ropes that binded her. She fell into his arms and he could feel her shuddery breaths. He pressed her close to him, hoping she would take some his warmth, but he wasn't naïve.

She needed a hospital now.

"Sam, what the—?" Dean puffed out a breath and then his eyes scanned the girl in his brother's arms. "Shit. She alive?"

"Yeah." Sam breathed, pleased that he had managed to save someone; that he hadn't been too late. Dean glanced up at the sky and Sam knew what he was checking. It wasn't a full moon—close to it, but not quite.

Lucy had broken the pattern.

"She needs a hospital." Sam nodded.

"What about the grave—?"

"She'll still be there tomorrow," Dean dismissed calmly. "Lucy needs—"

"Oh, dear Lord!" A voice exclaimed and Mrs. McGuire appeared out of the darkness. She tugged at the shawl around her shoulders and regarded with Lucy with wide eyes. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Sam replied quickly. "But Lucy needs help—"

"Dr. Jenkins," She told them, motioning for them to follow her. "We'll bring her to his clinic. It's this way, quickly."

With that, they followed her into the dark night.

* * *

"Well, aside from the one major laceration on her stomach and the blood loss," Dr. Jenkins began. "It seems Lucy will be just fine." He was a man in 70's and was one of those doctors with the pristine white lab coat and the oversized glasses. His clinic was a petite one—two rooms really—but it was filled with countless monitors that one would find in a major hospitable. He nodded to himself as he looked over his chart before scribbling a few things down. "I'll be keeping her overnight of course, but if she does well in the morning, I think she should be fine to go." He smiled softly and Sam could feel warmth radiate from him. He seemed to be the only person in Creekside willing to care for anyone. Hysteria hadn't taken hold in him like the rest of the town, something that Sam was grateful for.

"Thank you, doctor," Mrs. McGuire told him softly and he nodded his head before retreating to the other room. Maggie's mother then turned to them, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "Thank heavens you saw her! What were you doing out there?"

"We could ask you the same thing." Dean replied defensively and Sam gently nudged his brother with his elbow.

"We were just doing some digging." Sam answered, pleased with his half-truth.

"I'd hate to think what would've happened if you two hadn't shown up . . ." Mrs. McGuire's voice trailed off and a flash of sheer grief filled her eyes. She was no doubt recalling her own daughter's death and Sam felt her pain. It seemed like every night he watched Jessica die. He couldn't imagine how much worse it felt to lose a child.

"It was lucky." Sam supplied and she nodded her head vigorously.

"Indeed," She said. "As for what I was doing," She glanced at Dean. "I was on my way to visit Maggie. I do so every night. It's the only time when there's no one to stare." In her pocket, he could make out some daises and he wondered what would've happened if she had found them digging up her daughter's grave.

"Well, I believe it's getting late," She smiled softly. "See you two soon." With that she exited the clinic.

"Dean—"

"Come on," His brother motioned towards the door. "We need to figure out what's going on here."

* * *

The inn was strangely desolate without Lucy's presence. It was if the building knew she was gone for shadows seemed to darken the place more than was possible given the amount of light fixtures on the walls. It was odd, but Sam wasn't willing to look too much into it. They had bigger problems right now.

Who had put Lucy there and why?

Why tonight when it broke the pattern?

Dean calmly laid down salt lines on the main door and Sam placed some sigils on the walls and windows. If Lucy asked questions about it, they would explain it to her after they freed Creekside of whatever was controlling it.

"So, what are you thinking?" His older brother questioned as he placed the salt back on the counter. Sam shrugged and finished up his sigil.

"Honestly? A spirit wouldn't break a pattern, or at least, not one that has only been showing up for the past three months." It was a known fact that spirits became more powerful with the more time that passed. If it took 18 years for Maggie to finally begin her revenge killing spree, there was no way she would've gained the power to appear completely at will in just three short months. Something else had to be at play here.

"You think those guys that were threatening Lucy had something to do with it?"

"That's my guess." He put the cap on his sharpie and placed it in his pocket.

"But why her?" The question his older brother posed was valid and Sam honestly didn't have an answer. He couldn't figure it out either. They had left Lucy that night safe and secure in her room in the inn. They had locked the door behind them, with a key they had taken from the front desk. No one should've been able to get in.

Unless she let them in.

But why would she let in the same people that threatened her?

"I don't know." Sam shrugged and Dean sighed.

"We can ask her tomorrow," He glanced at the clocked that ticked above the desk. "Later today, I mean."

"And Maggie?" While Sam had remained with Mrs. McGuire and Lucy in the clinic, Dean had swung back and picked up their gear. He had fixed the grave a bit too, just in case they couldn't make it back before dawn.

"Only an hour left until sunrise," His older brother stated. "That's not enough time for the flames to go out completely."

So, they were stuck really.

"We talk to Lucy then? Ask her who did this?" Dean nodded and then carded a hand through his hair.

"If she'll speak to us," Sam nodded his head in agreement; she had been pretty distant the last time they had spoken to her. "Damn. I hate towns like this."

"Me too."

With that, they headed back to their room, ready to get a few hours of sleep before they continued their investigation.

Neither one noticed how the clock hands suddenly began to spin backwards until both hands rested on six.

Neither one noticed the soft wind that blew the salt line slightly askew.

And from the darkness, neither one heard the high heeled footsteps on the wooden floor.

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_**Author's Note: **__I know, I know, it's a big cliffhanger, but please hang in there! I will hopefully have another chapter up before May, when I began my undertaking that is "31 days of Hurt!Sam". Some answers will be coming in the next chapter, so hang in there! Please review if you have a second! I'd love to hear what you thought. _


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